


beautiful boy

by rory_kent



Series: sherlock and his daddy [1]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Age Difference, Age Play, Alternate Universe - Sugar Daddy, Daddy Kink, Hurt/Comfort, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Military Kink, Sub Sherlock Holmes, Subspace, Sugar Daddy John Watson
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-31
Updated: 2020-05-31
Packaged: 2021-03-03 09:54:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,446
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24469042
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rory_kent/pseuds/rory_kent
Summary: Sherlock didn't mean to upset daddy he really didn't!
Relationships: Sherlock Holmes/John Watson
Series: sherlock and his daddy [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1767892
Comments: 8
Kudos: 137





	beautiful boy

**Author's Note:**

> Just a little sugar daddy John ficlet. based on the prompt: “get your things, we’re leaving”

Sherlock leaned his elbows against the bar, head thrown back in boredom. He hated stupid parties like this. He eyed John, who was speaking to a circle of older men, sipping brandy. The absolute only perk to this engagement was John in his full dress uniform. Sherlock bit his lip subconsciously at the thought. 

“Enjoying the party, princess?” A low voice came from nearby and Sherlock looked up quickly to see one of the honored RAMC officers looking at him like he was a cut of steak. He blushed nervously. He was very aware of how tight the trousers he was wearing were, and how he had elected to wear knickers instead of pants, and that this man was too close. Too close. Sherlock closed his eyes briefly and shook his head. 

“No, not really, actually.” The older man cocked an eyebrow and smiled. 

“Oh, I’m sure it’s not that bad, let me get you a drink...that is if you’re old enough” Sherlock had just barely turned 18. The man put one arm on the bar next to Sherlock, caging him in, and Sherlock looked over his shoulder frantically for John, whose back was turned, his colleagues laughing at some remark. He needed his daddy and FAST. 

“N-no thank you, excuse me,” Sherlock stepped forward but the man put his other arm down and flashed a sly smile. Sherlock could feel his heart thumping in his chest, his palms sweating, and he swallowed. He tried to analyze the best plan but his mind was frozen. Frozen solid, even as the man leaned in and whispered, breath hot in his ears. 

“Where do you think you’re going, little boy?” Sherlock closed his eyes and shook his head. 

“P-please, leave me alone, you’re not my daddy, please, go away,” The man only laughed and bit Sherlock’s ear. He yelped and tried to slide out of his grip. 

“Is that the name of the game, baby? I can play lots of games with a lost little boy-” The man was cut off by someone grabbing his collar and pulling him off of Sherlock. John was livid, so angry he was smiling. 

“This one’s _mine_ ,” John growled, giving the man a hard stare, to which he scoffed, winking at Sherlock and heading away. Sherlock kept his eyes on the ground. He felt dirty. And not in the good way. Not good at all. John leaned in and whispered sternly, “Get your things, we’re leaving. Now.” Sherlock nodded quickly, rushing to retrieve their coats. When he returned, John gripped his wrist and pulled him away, dragging him along in front of everyone, causing Sherlock to turn beet red with embarrassment. 

“D-addy, stop it,” Sherlock whimpered, his wrist _hurt!_ John only laughed and looked him straight on. His eyes were dark, brooding, and Sherlock shivered. They got to daddy’s Aston Martin and Sherlock’s door was opened and he was buckled before he could say anything else. The drive was tense, John gripping the steering wheel tight, eyes tight on the road. Sherlock ran his hands down his thighs, trying to will his tears away, to stop hyperventilating but he couldn’t. He felt like the dirtiest, whoriest boy in the world. Daddy was so cross, maybe…

Maybe tonight was the night he kicked Sherlock out. For good. The thought hit Sherlock in the stomach and his breath hitched. He shut his eyes tight and hoped daddy didn't notice his half-choked sob. He didn’t even notice when the car stopped and daddy got out. He flinched violently when his door swung open, cowering in on himself, eyes locked on his lap. 

“Sherlock,” Daddy said with a warning tone, leaning on the door frame. “Come out of the car. Now.” Sherlock’s body wouldn’t listen to him! He screamed at his legs to move, get up, do something! But he remained still save the shuddering of his silent tears. John gripped his arm again, and Sherlock whimpered at the pain. He was sure to have hand-shaped bruises there for at least a week. Daddy let go immediately, but Sherlock didn’t look up. “Please, love,” daddy said softly, and Sherlock shakily stood up, daddy pressing a hand at the small of his back, leading him to the lift. Daddy gently rubbed a circle on the back of Sherlock’s suit jacket, and the touch was grounding and calming. 

“D-addy, I-” Sherlock stuttered as daddy only shushed him. Why was he being so nice? Sherlock had been horrible, absolutely horrible! He didn’t deserve daddy’s nice touches. Sherlock stepped forward a bit, the loss of contact leaving him cold and empty, but daddy didn’t try to touch him again. He hung his head and kept his hands at his sides, resisting the urge to wipe his tears. He was such a bad boy, _so_ bad, the _worst_! The worstest boy ever. 

When they got to daddy’s flat Sherlock immediately knelt in the center of the sitting room, hoping his submissive gesture would be appreciated. Daddy didn’t seem to notice, pulling his tie off and letting out a deep sigh before fixing himself a drink. Sherlock didn’t look up, just listened to the clinking of the decanter and the huff of daddy’s exhale. Sherlock’s mind was back at the party, the scary man offering him a drink, touching him, calling him princess. He bit back a sob. Nobody was supposed to touch Sherlock but daddy. Sherlock wasn’t allowed to have alcohol. Sherlock wasn’t to talk to other men without daddy’s permission, and he really hadn’t meant to! He really hadn’t! He cursed himself as daddy came to stand in front of him, sipping back his scotch. 

“Anything you have to say, hm? Acting like a whore in front of my work friends, embarrassing me?” Daddy said harshly, arms crossed, keeping his distance and looking down at Sherlock with a dominant glare. Sherlock couldn’t hide his tears anymore, he burst open like a cracked dam and it all came bubbling out. 

“S-so s-sorry da-addy, so sorry, please, daddy, I’ll be good, I won’t be rotten anymore, please, I’m so rotten, I’m s-so sorry, didn’t mean to, sir, didn’t mean to- to- to break the rules, sir, got scared daddy, couldn’t f-find you, please don’t kick me out, I’m so so sorry,” He blubbered and covered his face with his hands, shaking violently. He stilled instantly as daddy ran fingers through his hair, pulling Sherlock closer, petting him softly. 

“Why would I do that? You’re not rotten, darling,” Sherlock was so upset the change in John’s voice went over his head, but John was feeling terribly guilty. He hadn’t really thought this through- of course Sherlock was scared! Some drunken officer flirting with him, what was John thinking leaving him alone? John cursed himself for getting angry, for letting Sherlock believe that he might hurt him, or leave him. What kind of daddy was he? He bent down and planted a kiss on his baby boy's curly mop. “You’re not rotten at all.”

Sherlock looked up at him through his long dark eyelashes, eyes wide as saucers and whispered, “I’m not?” John sighed and knelt down in front of Sherlock, one hand carding his hair right above his ear, another tracing his cheekbones gently, like he was a polished marble statue. 

“No, baby, you’re not. You’re my beautiful, clever, sweet boy, nothing can change that. I’m so sorry you had a scare tonight, I should’ve been watching you. I should’ve kept my calm, but I let you down, and I’m sorry.”

“S’okay daddy,” Sherlock’s cheeks flushed as John wiped his tears with the pad of his thumb. John pulled his boy into a hug and Sherlock melted at the touch, leaning his cheek on John’s shoulder, no doubt leaving a trail of tears and snot where he lay. John didn’t mind. He placed an arm under Sherlock’s bum and pulled him up onto his hip, bouncing ever so slightly. For being in his early forties, John was incredibly strong, and Sherlock was delicately light. Sherlock was limp in his arms, so exhausted from his ordeal. John shook his head. They hadn’t eaten dinner, but Sherlock was already asleep. Big breakfast tomorrow then. 

John carried his snoozing lover to bed,tucking the enormous Egyptian cotton duvet around him, planting soft kisses all over his face, feeling Sherlock smile beneath his lips. Sherlock’s eyes fluttered open for a moment, drowsy and content. 

“Goodnight, little Sherlock, daddy loves you very much,” John petted Sherlock’s hair as Sherlock closed his eyes once more. John’s heart was full as he flicked the light off, never looking away from his sleeping boy. His perfect, kind, brilliant , **beautiful boy**.

**Author's Note:**

> this is my very first fic, and I really really would love feedback! thank you so much! -rory  
> check out my tumblr:  
> hey-im-rory.tumblr.com


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